


In the Pink

by cinnamon_skull



Category: Batman (Comics), DCU (Comics)
Genre: Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Memory Loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 03:40:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6357454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinnamon_skull/pseuds/cinnamon_skull
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim doesn’t deal with pain medication very well. It makes him forget all kinds of things, like his boyfriend’s name. Not to worry, Jason is there to jog his memory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In the Pink

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on tumblr, tweaked here and made longer. Teeth-rotting fluff, beware! I've fallen so hard for these two.

The sudden brightness made Tim groan and throw and arm over his face, and then immediately regret it. His chest burned and every breath felt too tight, like he was sunk under water. His skin smelt like rubbing alcohol and there was a faint beeping to his left, too mechanical to be soothing.

“What?” he croaked out, the room blurry as he blinked back panic and tried to count back to a time he when he was conscious. There had been Black Mask and a gun shipment, and then…Tim couldn’t remember the rest.

His vision swam and his realized that his throat was painfully dry. And still, the mechanical beeping, picking up just slightly with his every flustered movement.

“Here,” someone handed him a glass of water with a pink straw. Why did it look so very bright and lonely? “Drink.”

Tim was thirsty, and the water felt cold and refreshing sliding down his aching throat. When he handed the glass back, the straw was white with two red stripes racing down its middle, the same shade as his Red Robin suit.

His eyes slowly followed scuffed knuckles and scared skin, and his vision finally cleared to reveal Jason Todd’s smiling face. “Welcome back, beautiful.”

Tim scowled. “Where’s Alfred?” His voice had a broken edge to it, conjuring up images of rusting clockwork pieces grating together, no longer in tandem.

There was a brief silence where Jason looked like he didn’t want to speak his next words aloud. “Probably washing all your blood out of the sheets,” he said finally, but not unkindly. “You gave us a nice scare.”

Tim looked down at his hands, which were bruised up with one arm hooked to an IV and a finger resting between a heart monitor clip — and the rhythmic beeping was the sound of his own heart. There was something else lying on the bed beside Tim, a little plastic wand with a red button on top.

Jason saw his gaze and whistled low, setting one hand next to Tim’s on the stark white bed sheet. “They got you on the good stuff, huh?”

Even though he wasn’t touching him, the warmth of Jason’s hand so close made Tim blush, and he could feel heat pooling in the skin of his cheeks and spreading down his chest beneath the thin hospital gown. He blamed it on the morphine and his weakened, confused state.

Jason laughed softly.

“Todd I don’t have time for games,” Tim grit out, pulling off the heart monitor and making the machine alarm blare. “Black Mask, he’s got a shipment of—”

Jason placed a soft, firm hand on his shoulder, pushing him back into the pillows. If he were thinking clearly, he’d be worried by how easily Jason restrained him.

“Easy there, Tim. And don’t worry, B’s got it under control. The only thing you need right now is a lot of rest,” Jason said, and then smiled again. His crooked, secret grin set off more alarm bells in Tim’s mind than the feel of a sniper’s sights on his back.

Jason’s voice went soft for the next part, like he was revealing a secret. “And maybe, a little TLC.”

“What happened?” Tim asked, instead of demanding Jason explain exactly what kind of game he was playing. Tim didn’t need a nurse, and although the prospect of Jason in a pair of white stockings was truthfully thrilling (and why, _why_ had his brain chosen to go there?) there wasn’t anything Jason liked better than to avoid wounded bats and anything that looked like a hospital.

“Punctured lung, a couple broken ribs,” Jason answered, looking serious. “A bullet to the thigh. Alfred said you’d feel pretty out of it from all the morphine, pretty bird.”

“Don’t,” Tim snapped, his thoughts catching on the two words and drawing to a point. “Only my boyfriend calls me that.”

Jason suddenly looked very, very pleased. Tim didn’t like it.

“Oh yeah,” Jason moved a little closer, leaning one hip against the bed. “Your boyfriend. Where is he, anyway?”

“He’s…” Tim thought. He thought really, really hard. But he was coming up blank. “He’s not going to like it when he sees you here.”

“You’re probably right.” Jason didn’t stop smiling as he said it, like it was some kind of endearing pronouncement and not an admission that Tim’s boyfriend could kick his ass.

In fact, Jason didn’t look very worried at all. Tim frowned, and then pressed the red button of the morphine drip and things got a little fuzzy again, but it was so warm and welcoming that Tim didn’t mind it.

“He’s very strong,” Tim warned, sighing back into the pillows as the tension started to leave his body. The drugs must have been kicking in, because there was nothing else to explain the sudden ache in his chest that eased only when he met Jason's gentle blue eyes.   

He looked entirely too comfortable (and much too large) sitting at the edge of Tim’s bed. “I don’t doubt it, pretty bird.”

 _And there._ That nickname again. But Jason didn’t look bothered at all, and the words didn’t sound strange coming from his lips.

The sheet underneath Tim’s fingers felt very soft. Almost wispy, like strands of clouds strung together. But that was almost as impossible as Jason Todd smiling down him, rubbing soft circles into the arches of his feet.

“He shoots people, you know,” Tim tried again, but the words sort of blended together on the tip of his tongue.

“Does that mean he’s a bad guy?” Jason asked softy. His fingers were so warm fitting into the groves of Tim’s ankles, skin sliding against skin. Tim didn’t have time to wonder when Jason had snuck his hands under the blanket.

“No he’s,” Tim struggled, his eyes fluttering close. “I love him.”

Jason laughed again, warmly. Tim felt it against his cheek, but he was too tired to open his eyes.

“I love you, too,” he said into Tim’s hair. “Sweet dreams, pretty bird.”

**Author's Note:**

> Well? What do you expect from me, I said I love these two. Thank you to Tanekore, who always gives me her great ideas.


End file.
